The End of the Beginning
by Nekal Ibea
Summary: It's been eighteen months since Sherlock Holmes returned to a somewhat normal life at Baker Street. When an old acquaintance of Eurus' appears with a case regarding his deceased nemesis, Jim Moriarty, Sherlock calls on John Watson and all his friends to help him end the final game of Moriarty and restore balance to England.
1. Prologue

All Sherlock Holmes could do was let out a sigh of relief. It was over...everything was finally over. His sister, Eurus, had agreed to help save John Watson before it was too late and was now being escorted back to Sherrinford prison. Mentally, Sherlock made a vow to visit Eurus a little more from now on, seeing as it was him that caused his younger sister to become what she did. If she wanted, he would play his violin for her, just to make her happy.

"So, what are we going to do now?" John asked, still shivering underneath the blanket he was wrapped in.

"Go home," Sherlock answered, "but I need to do something first."

"What's that?"

"I have to pay someone a visit."

Molly Hooper heard knocking on her door, waking her from an emotionally-induced slumber. The previous day really hadn't been a good one. First, she learned she had to do an autopsy on a child, then had to fill out insane amounts of paperwork, but the icing on Sherlock's birthday cake was that she got two unwanted calls that day, one of which turned her world and heart upside down. Frankly, since they came one right after the other, Molly remained very upset after Sherlock's call, but still drank her tea and managed to calm down slightly, all while crying her eyes out at Sherlock's words.

Walking over to the door, Molly contemplated what she would tell Sherlock the next time they met, if they did. She had been able to deduce that Sherlock hadn't been lying when he told her he loved her, but in what context didn't matter. All that did was that he acknowledged she mattered to him and he loved her in his own way. Those thoughts would have to wait, unfortunately, as she had a guest at her door. Why, though? It was almost four o'clock in the morning.

Unlocking the door, Molly opened it and her eyes widened upon seeing a rather drained Sherlock. He glanced at her and smiled very slightly, hoping that she would be willing to talk so early. Right now, they both needed closure and badly.

"Is there a reason you're here so early, Sherlock?" Molly asked, trying not to sound so nervous, "Something wrong?"

To Molly's shock, Sherlock didn't answer her, but, instead, pulled her to him and held her tight to his chest. She could hear his heavy breathing, almost like he was ready to crack, and feel his hands grip her arms, not wanting to let go. A moment later, she felt something wet touch the crook of her neck, but was quick to realize the source of the watery feeling was Sherlock. Gently pushing herself away a bit, Molly looked at Sherlock and was a little surprised to find he was, in fact, shedding tears. Reaching up with her hand, she wiped away his tears and made him look her in the eyes.

"Sherlock, tell me what's wrong," Molly calmly demanded, knowing she deserved some answers as to his behavior.

"Molly," Sherlock choked out, "I...I am so sorry. I never wanted for you to…"

"You're a little hysterical. Come on, let's go sit down." Molly pulled Sherlock into her flat, shut the door and locked it, then led Sherlock into her sitting room, both sitting down on her sofa, "Now, what's this all about?"

"I promise, it wasn't my idea to call you," Sherlock explained, having calmed a little on the journey to the sofa, "My sister, Eurus…"

"A sister? You have a sister?"

"Was a shock to me, too. She shot John with a tranquilizer when she revealed herself to him."

"Not exactly the best choice of therapist."

"Or person to text cheat on Mary with."

"What?"

"Never mind that last one. My point is, she was forcing me to hurt you by having you tell me you love me. She...had a coffin made for you. If I didn't comply, you would die...or so I was told. That entire phone call was just to get me to hurt you by using your feeling for me against me." A stray tear fell from Sherlock's eyes, "I hurt you and I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?"

Molly touched Sherlock's face, staring into his blue-gray eyes with her own chestnut eyes. She could see the pain and sorrow in Sherlock's face, but it was when she touched his hands and felt the torn skin and dried blood on his knuckles that Molly completely understood what had transpired.

"Listen to me, Sherlock Holmes," she commanded, "I know that your sister caused you so much pain in hurting me, but I can tell there's more than that. You caused yourself pain over me and that's not something I want you to do."

"Maybe I did because I don't deserve you!" Sherlock screamed, surprising Molly once again.

"Don't you think I should have a say in that? You know what? You're probably right. I do deserve better, but you're the man my heart chose."

"Molly, don't let your heart rule your head. Eurus got into mine that way. For a moment, I thought that...that…"

"That I would die." Molly sighed, "Well, I'm still here, aren't I? Even though your sister forced you to rip my heart out and stomp on it, I'm still here. What does that say about me?"

"That you're an idiot?" Sherlock joked.

"No. It means that, despite that phone call, I'm not going anywhere, especially in your state. This could possibly be a danger night."

"The past twenty-four bloody hours have been a danger night. Eurus murdered five innocent people just to play a game. It was a game to get my attention, the attention of her older brother whose love she needed."

"Poor her. What did she do that made her think like that?"

"Doesn't matter. What does matter is that you're safe. Not only that, we have a chance to mend what's left of our friendship."

"Is there anything to mend, Sherlock?"

"Of course there is! Molly, I thought I was going to lose you today and we had our hearts torn out and thrown in our faces! Had I known, I would have never…"

Sherlock never got the chance to finish the sentence because, for the second time in twelve hours, his heart took over and tears dropped from his eyes. Molly carefully placed her hands around Sherlock and pulled him towards her, letting his face be buried into her shoulder.

"Everything's going to be okay, Sherlock," she said, hoping that would calm him.

"It's not okay," Sherlock sobbed.

"No." Molly placed a gentle kiss on Sherlock's temple, "But it is what it is."


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Thanks to the few people who liked and reviewed this little fic. Really encouraging to see that this story is getting some positive reception. First chapter is here and should be up to the current timeline. Hope you guys enjoy it!**

 **P.S. To everyone sending hate to the cast and crew of** ** _Sherlock_** **, please stop. I know we're better than this as a fandom and as a community. You all are free to ship whoever you want and don't have to take out any frustration on Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat, Sue Vertue, Louise Brealey, Benedict Cumberbatch, or anyone else. They haven't done anything except their jobs and very much enjoy filming** ** _Sherlock_** **so we can enjoy it on TV and on DVD/Blu-Ray. Please, spread a message of love throughout the fandom. It's very much needed right now. To the cast and crew of** ** _Sherlock_** **: you guys are beyond awesome individuals and I appreciate the time and effort you put into this show, as do hundreds and thousands of others. You've changed lives for the better. For that, let me say that we love you guys and just keep doing what you do best: be your best selves and keep inspiring others. Lots of love to you all. Now that all that has been said, let's keep the ball rolling!**

* * *

 _Five Months Later; 5 January 2017_

People were bustling through Heathrow airport, checking their bags, showing and receiving their tickets, and making sure everything was in proper arrangement for their travels. The clock on Elizabeth Tower (which many people still call Big Ben) struck through the noise of the crowd, signalling a new hour had arrived. And on this hour came the arrival of a flight from Atlanta, tires screeching on the tarmac as they slowed down on the cold pavement below. On this flight, amidst all the other one hundred or so passengers, was a young woman of twenty-two years of age. She had dyed copper hair, gunmetal blue eyes (which many found interesting), was about five-foot-five or so in height, and about an average weight, somewhere around 130.

The young woman waited at the baggage claim until she saw her olive green and crimson red suitcases pass by, picking each up with an arm and leading them to customs. Upon being scanned for non-existent weapons, she handed the receptionist her passport, who eyed her suspiciously.

"I wouldn't worry," the young woman reassured, her Received Pronounciation top notch, "My mind is sane."

Nodding, the receptionist handed the passport back and said, "Welcome back to London."

"Thank you. It's good to be home."

* * *

Mycroft Holmes woke up to the screeching of his phone ringing, which annoyed him to great lengths. Glancing at the clock, he groaned and answered the phone, his tone tired and irked.

"Do you realize it's four o'clock in the bloody morning?" Mycroft scolded the person on the other line, "Why on earth are you…?"

Upon hearing what the other person had to say, Mycroft was instantly alert and sitting up, sleep no longer an issue. He stood up from his bed and stretched, then responded, "Yes, of course. I'll be there as soon as possible. Thank you for this development."

Ending the call, Mycroft sighed, then headed towards his bathroom (which also had a suit of armor in it) to take an early morning shower. This was going to be one hell of a morning.

* * *

"So, how are things going?" Eurus Holmes asked her brother, both sitting on either side of the glass, playing a game of tic-tac-toe with some glass paint. She had recovered well in the five months since her game ended and was now on better terms with Sherlock, even managing to start talking to him two months earlier.

"Well," Sherlock replied, placing an "x" in a corner, "John and Rosie are doing fine, Mrs. Hudson still vacuums to Iron Maiden, and Greg is getting better at being a Detective Inspector."

"Nothing on Molly Hooper?" Eurus placed an "o" in the center of the board.

"Molly's well. We made up five months ago and we're doing fine." He placed an "x" on the top row, then motioned for Eurus to go.

"And, there's nothing else to report on?" Eurus continued to inquire as she placed one final "o" in a square then crossed a line through it. She smirked as Sherlock shrugged in defeat, then began to clean her side of the glass.

"Nothing, Eurus."

"That's a lie, Sherlock. Remember what I said then? Emotional context. You care for her. Always have and always will. But how do you love her?"

Standing up, Sherlock said, "I'm done talking about it, Eurus. My time's almost up."

Eurus also stood and said, "You can't hide from it forever, brother. I heard you when you said you loved her. That tone was that of realization. The man you used to be is gone. Don't become what you once were."

"My life is mine, Eurus. Don't tell me how to live it."

"I'm not trying to, Sherlock. All I'm saying is that it would be best for you to two to talk it out and see where you stand."

"Are you trying to manipulate me into admitting how I'm feeling for Molly?"

"Hard habit to break." Eurus shrugged, "Just think about it, Sherlock. You told me that you two had made up, but it sounds like words have still gone unsaid. Believe me, there are things I want to say to people from the past, but that may never happen. They'll never know how sorry I am. No more hiding, brother. It's time for your heart to take center stage. Let it be your guide."

Sherlock scoffed, but in a slightly humored way, "Are you my conscience now?"

"I don't exactly have a tux and umbrella, so no."

Continuing to smile as he put on his Belstaff, Sherlock said, "I'll be back in a couple of weeks. I'll bring some cards next time."

"You need to teach me that waltz you played once. It was pretty."

Sherlock stopped in his tracks, his shoulders tense. He shuddered a breath before replying, "It was for John's late wife, Mary. She died protecting me from a traitor."

"Horrible. See you in two weeks, Sherlock."

"See you in two weeks. Behave."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

"Are you certain of this, Mycroft?" Lady Smallwood asked as she and Mycroft stood in his office, looking over security footage on his laptop, "Why would they call you if there's no real threat posed."

"We cannot take any chances, Alicia," Mycroft answered, shutting his computer, "We know what happened last time."

"Of course, but wait before you do something drastic. Wait until a move is made then do what you do best."

"Just what is it that I do best, Lady Smallwood?"

"Be Mycroft Holmes."

* * *

"You know, it's your birthday tomorrow," John mentioned to Sherlock that evening once he'd returned to Baker Street, "Mrs. H and I were planning a small party for you. Just a little get together."

"Hmm," Sherlock responded, obviously not interested, despite the subject being about his goddaughter, "I still don't understand why people have to celebrate their child turning another year older. Pointless, if you ask me."

"Some people do that to spoil their kids or others. I am not one of those parents/friends. This is just a small get together with some cake, ice cream, biscuits, and champagne. Nothing more than that."

"I'm alright with that."

"Very well." John got up from his chair and stretched his back, "I'll let Mrs. Hudson know. Might as well get some champagne tomorrow morning. That and Rosie's out of apple juice."

A smirk appeared on Sherlock's face as he looked through his contacts and found Molly's number. For a brief moment, he debated on whether or not to text her, but decided against it. He had almost lost her due to sentiment once, he wasn't about to put her in that position again.

"Molly's going to be bringing the cake," John passed along, putting his coat on, "It's a homemade strawberry cake with cream cheese frosting."

"You should stop, John," Sherlock advised, "I can see you drooling."

"Don't pretend that doesn't sound appetizing to you. You've talked about Molly's cooking before and how good it is. For a pathologist, she's a bloody good cook."

"That is a fact I will not deny."

"Speaking of Molly, she's been a little upset lately. Know why that is?"

"Most likely because I'm keeping a distance."

John sighed and ran his hand through his hair, exasperated, "Sherlock Holmes, you told Molly Hooper you love her and smashed the coffin meant for her in an emotional rage. That night, you sobbed yourself to sleep on her couch apologizing to her for that damn phone call. After all that, how can you just distance yourself from her. You love her, dammit."

"And loving her will get her killed. I'm not putting her in that kind of danger again."

Chortling, John responded, "So, in order to protect her, you're staying away from her?"

"That's right."

"Five months. Five long months you've been doing that to her. Doesn't she deserve better treatment from you?" Realization hit John, "Or, maybe, you're doing this on purpose to see if she'll stay? That's got to be it. You clot! Why are you putting her through this again?!"

"To try and tell her she deserves better than me!" Sherlock swiftly stood and towered over John, "Somehow, she's not getting the damn message! Eurus is already getting onto me about her, so don't you start too!"

John stiffened, twitching his face a little, "And that, Sherlock Holmes, lets me know you love her. You love Molly so much that you want her to only see your faults and not that you have the heart and capacity to love. It terrifies you."

"She deserves better than a high-functioning sociopath."

"No. Molly deserves you, the best you that you can be. She could care less if you're an ass from time to time or if you get carried away in a case. That's who you are in her eyes. Don't be an ass, Sherlock Holmes, especially to Molly Hooper. Whether you like it or not, she is the love of your life. Mary taught me to treasure the ones you love. Take that to heart, for once."

Having said what he needed to say, John turned and headed down 221B's seventeen steps and out into the cold, winter night. Sherlock sighed and went to sit back down in his chair, slouching in frustration. This was why he hadn't tried to pursue a relationship with Molly. He knew everyone would pester him about them just because he told her he loved her.

It was true, nonetheless. Sherlock did love her and he would admit that any day, but what he didn't want to admit was that, when it came to relationships, he was weak and helpless. Picking up his phone, he opened his messenger to type out a quick, simple text to Molly, not regretting sending it to her: " _Have a good night. I love you. SH_ "

Moments later, he got Molly's response, which made him smile, " _You know me. I'll be up till the dead of night. Good night. Love you. Molly_ "

* * *

At the Brown's Hotel, the young woman sat in one of the restaurants, mainly _The Albemarle_ , waiting on her guest to arrive. She was sipping a small glass of white wine while she waited, hoping her acquaintance would show up soon. There were pressing matters to attend to. Moments later, a woman with blonde hair and striking gray eyes sat down across from her, a smirk as wide as the English Channel on her face.

"I see you've changed quite a bit," she commented, then nodded to the younger woman's left hand, "That says so."

"That's now why I called you here, Irene," the young woman retorted, "I'm here on very urgent business that needs closure as soon as possible."

"Oh? And what would that be?"

"Eurus."

Irene's face went pale instantaneously, "You can't be serious? That bitch?"

"There's a rumor on the wind that she's changing. Sherlock Holmes is having a hand in her rehabilitation. I need you to pull every string you have to try and find Eurus. Past issues have come back and they need to be settled quickly."

"Does this mean I get to play with Sherlock Holmes again?"

"He's taken, Irene. I wouldn't get your hopes up."

"No, he's still single. I have a few close friends, mainly Kate, keep a secret eye on him. But a woman does come and go from Baker Street often."

"That would be Sherlock Holmes' girlfriend. It's a secret relationship."

"Like I said, no. Sherlock Holmes is single and I plan to use that to my advantage. Once I get to Baker Street, I can…"

"I'll deal with Sherlock Holmes. Besides, I have a case for him that needs to be told."

"A case? What case could you possibly have?"

"This case is quite personal to me. If I told you, you'd never believe it."

"Bring it on."

Her expression serious, the young woman leaned in so that she could whisper to Irene, "It's Jim."

"Jim Moriarty?" Irene asked, surprised.

Shushing Irene down to a whisper, the young woman nodded in confirmation, "Yes. He's still got one last trick up his sleeve, I know it. Sherlock Holmes is a fool to think Jim's dead for good."

"What are you going to do?"

"Tell him about my case and the concerns I have."

"He may not be interested."

"Irene, when it comes to Jim Moriarty, Sherlock can't resist. That's his weakness. He loves the thrill of the chase."

"As do I."

"That aside, he won't be able to turn down my case. I'll speak to him tomorrow. Just do everything you can to get information. I'm counting on you, Irene."

Standing up, Irene said, "I suppose I should call Kate and tell her to get my things ready. The Woman is back in London and, this time, I'm not going down without a battle."


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone that had commented, liked, and followed this little Sherlock story. I really appreciate that you are taking time of your busy days to read this and it makes me happy knowing that people are enjoying it. Thank you once again. Hope everyone has a wonderful week. Bless you all.**

* * *

The following morning was rather busy for Sherlock and John. For one, Rosie was refusing to get into a little pink dress John had bought for the occasion. Considering the fact that Sherlock winced when he went and picked out the dress with John, it was a rather gaudy dress, even for babies. It had a nearly complete sequined top, a belt with a horrendous bow in the middle, and a tutu-esque skirt, all of which gave Sherlock a massive headache, especially with the fuschia pink color.

"I told you that she wouldn't like it, John," Sherlock commented, smirking in amusement, "I preferred the little sailor dress."

"Of course you would," John sighed, "You were a bloody pirate as a child."

"Yep."

John turned to him, "Could you, at least, stop standing there smirking and help?!"

"Hold on." Sherlock heard the door close downstairs, "That's probably Molly. She was up early this morning making the cake. I texted her."

"So, texting terms, huh?"

"For the moment."

Molly let out a huff as she finished ascending the stairs, "Morning. Brought the cake and some champagne. Sherlock mentioned it this morning."

This left John confused, "Hang on. Sherlock just told me you two are on texting terms."

Placing the cake and champagne in the fridge (dodging a few fingers in the process), Molly responded, "We are. He sometimes calls me in the mornings. I let him know when I wake up."

"Ah. So, there's no…?"

"No. Sorry, John."

"Shame. You two would be good for each other."

Upon receiving a glare from Sherlock, John went back to trying to put Rosie's dress on her. Sherlock walked over to Molly and whispered, "How are you doing?"

"I'm well," Molly replied in a soft voice, "You?"

"Okay." Sherlock wrapped an arm around Molly's shoulders, pulling her into a small hug, "I missed you."

"You think I didn't?" Molly returned the hug, "It's a little difficult hiding this from John. Why don't you tell him?"

"Don't worry, I plan to tell him later tonight. He should've figured it out five months ago."

"When you came back from my flat a little more ruffled than usual. He sees, but doesn't observe."

"Nope."

"Come on, Rosie!" John exclaimed, exhausted, which broke Sherlock and Molly apart and caused them to walk into the sitting room. Molly, at last, caught a glimpse of the dress John picked and instantly broke into laughter. John glanced at her and asked, "What's so funny?"

"The dress," Molly explained, clutching her stomach, "It's absolutely hideous!"

Sherlock chuckled at Molly's answer while John scowled, "Really, Molly? I thought you would like it."

"Even I have my limits. This puts my ugliest Christmas jumper to shame."

A good laugh came out of Sherlock then, which further irritated John, "Shut up, Sherlock."

"John, to be fair, Rosie didn't really approve of it when we went shopping for it," Sherlock defended, then pulled out a small bag from behind his chair, "This is my present to Rosie."

Bamboozled, John chose to open the gift and found the pink sailor dress Sherlock had mentioned earlier. Rosie's eyes lit up and she instantly reached for it, surprising John greatly.

"I know a thing or two about Rosie's personality," Sherlock explained, "I've noticed that she enjoys the color pink, but doesn't like anything too sparkly or poofy. The dress you picked is the complete opposite of what she likes."

"How could you notice that?"

"When we went clothes shopping for her, I observed what she took an interest in. Oh, she also likes sloths."

"They are cute," Molly agreed.

"Sloths and pink," John noted, "Got it."

"Good."

"You know, sometimes I think you're the better parent."

"John, don't undermine your parenting abilities," Sherlock said, "You're a wonderful father to Rosie and she loves you unconditionally. Granted, we all went through a rough time last year, but it's a new year, John! Let's make the most of it."

"This is coming from you? Have you taken anything?"

"Not a thing, John. Molly's made sure of it."

Glancing between Sherlock and Molly, a smirk appeared on John's face, "Okay. I'm going to make a deduction here. If I'm right, both of you must be honest with me."

"Fire away."

"You two are meeting behind my back and have yet to tell me."

Molly looked at Sherlock before nodding, "We talked everything over five months ago. Sherlock was the one who brought up us being in a relationship. He said he'd be rubbish at it, but I'm helping him along."

"John, remember when I came back to Baker Street the day after we took Eurus in?" Sherlock questioned.

"Of course," John replied, "You looked a little messier than usual and a bit happier, but other than that…" Realization hit him and he groaned, "How did I not see it?"

Sherlock smirked and Molly tried not to laugh.

"You did it. You actually shagged Molly."

"And let me tell you, she's a damn good lover."

"Didn't need to know that. Come on, Rosie needs to get her dress on and we need to start preparing for company to arrive. Today's going to be a big day."

* * *

In her hotel room, the young woman was putting on her clothes, which consisted of a breasted vest-jacket with a tiered-sheer skirt effect, black leggings, and black boots that zipped on the side but had a lace-up effect on the front. After taking a minute to look in the mirror at her reflection, she nodded and put on a ring before grabbing her purse.

"Hope this is enough to meet the great Sherlock Holmes, because he's in for quite the surprise."

* * *

A man groaned as a whip smacked down on his chest, leaving a bright red mark on his skin. Sitting on his hips was Irene Adler, a whip in her hand and her most revealing lingerie on her body. The man groaned in pain, not exactly happy with how tight his bonds were or the stinging sensation on his skin.

"Well, now," Irene spoke in a sultry voice, leaning down to rest on the man's chest, "Are you willing to talk now? Or do I have to keep going with your punishment?"

"Do your worst," the man replied through gritted teeth, "I can handle it."

"Oh, really?" Irene sat back up, her tone now low and dangerous, "Well, how do you like this?"

She brought the whip down onto the man's nose, which may have effectively broken his nose, leaving a small trail of blood below it. He hissed in pain while Irene smirked.

"Had enough yet?" she once again asked.

"Wha-What do you want to know?"

"Only one thing...where is Eurus?"

"I...I don't know who that is. But I heard Mr. Holmes mention someone with that name before. D-Don't know if that's relevant…"

"The information is very useful, thank you." Irene stood up and got off the bed, "Now, I'm going to call my maid and have her tend to your nose. It's not broken, but I did do some minor damage to it. Sorry about that, but when the need arises, I do what has to be done."

* * *

Cheers erupted as Rosie finally managed to blow out the candle on Sherlock's cake (with a little help from Sherlock, of course), but it was worth the wait to get that special moment on camera. Mrs. Hudson took the opportunity to take the candle out of the cake and begin slicing it for everyone to enjoy.

"Molly made it herself this morning," Mrs. Hudson bragged, "It's a homemade strawberry cake."

"Sounds great," Greg Lestrade said, "Doubt Sherlock will be having any, so let's keep his piece for Mycroft."

"On the contrary, Greg, I do plan to indulge myself," Sherlock responded, accepting a plate from Mrs. Hudson, "It is my birthday."

"Shame Mycroft couldn't be here," John commented, taking a bite of cake.

"He had some important business to attend to. Wouldn't say what it was, but it was more important, apparently."

"Mycroft never was good at understanding particular things," Mrs. Hudson said, "Part of me is still convinced he doesn't entirely know that Sherlock is the smart one of the Holmes'."

"You haven't met Eurus, Mrs. Hudson. She's a genius, but still has a ways to go in the emotions department."

"I'm sure she'll become a lovely girl, Sherlock. After all, she's got her big brother there to support her."

A smile passed between the two until they resumed munching on their respective slices of cake. Lestrade walked over to Molly and cleared his throat.

"So, everything good between you and Sherlock?" he inquired.

"Yeah," Molly replied, "We've long since settled everything. Sherlock and I are fine."

"It's not that. The other day, he gave you a glance, almost as if he was flirting with his eyes."

Molly blushed in embarrassment, "Well, he has been a little more forward about his feelings for me. He tells me every day that he loves me."

"He finally got my name right when we took his sister in, but I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth. Might as well savor it before he mucks it up again."

Chuckling, Molly smiled before walking back over to Sherlock, who placed an arm around her shoulders. Lestrade observed Sherlock's behavior towards Molly and was quickly able to come to a conclusion. He cleared his throat again and said, "So, Sherlock, any new developments to regale to us? Perhaps your last case?"

Realizing that Lestrade was talking to him, Sherlock replied, "Oh, nothing much has happened, Greg. There is something I want to tell you and Mrs. Hudson."

"What is it, Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson questioned, slightly worried.

"Molly and I have been in a relationship for the past five months."

A resounding squeal came from Mrs. Hudson while Lestrade smirked, having gotten Sherlock to confirm his suspicion. He said, "I'm happy for you both. Any plans in the foreseeable future?"

"Sherlock and I have been talking about me moving in," Molly admitted, "My lease runs out at my flat next month, so we're heavily considering living together starting then. We haven't actually decided, though."

"I'm all for it," Sherlock said, "Molly's the one who's a little hesitant. Rightfully so, to be honest."

"Forgive me for still airing on the side of caution."

"Well, we'll have a lifetime to see if I can make up for being an ass."

"You're not Sherlock Holmes if you're not, at least, partially and asshole."

"Molly, I, for one, would love to have you live here," Mrs. Hudson chipped in, "Don't get me wrong, I love John and Sherlock as if they were my own boys, but we need a feminine touch around here. Sometimes, I think Sherlock got that yellow chair because of you."

"It's Molly's chair," Sherlock explained, "Should Molly decide to one day move in, it'll be her chair for when we have clients. On her days off, mind you."

"Other than that, I'll be in the morgue or in the lab," Molly agreed.

"I say move on in," John stated, "Rosie and I would love to have you around. She misses you."

"John, I'll make a decision soon enough. I do need to weigh the pros and cons of something like this."

"Take your time, Molly. If Sherlock waited almost ten years for you, I'm sure he can wait a little while longer."

"Ever the romantic, John," Sherlock muttered, "It was seven years, not ten." He leaned in and whispered to Molly, "He loves to exaggerate such things."

"Yeah, I know," Molly whispered back.

A knock at the door to the sitting room effectively silenced everyone inside 221B. Standing in the doorway was the young woman dressed in black, her eyes serious in nature, but soon warmed up as she realized that no one was reacting.

"Tough crowd, you lot," she commented, then cleared her throat, "Which one of you is Sherlock Holmes? I need to speak to you."

Cautious, Sherlock took a step forward, giving Molly a reassuring squeeze as he did, then demanded, "Who wants to know?"

"I do. My name is Cerise Alexandra. I have a possible case for you, Mr. Holmes, but I don't know if you'll accept it if I tell you my full name."

John stepped forward to stand with Sherlock, "What's your case, Ms. Cerise?"

"Oh, it's not that easy, Doctor Watson. I'm not going to just tell you the case. You have to go through part one first."

"Not again," Sherlock groaned, "We already went through this with my sister. Don't do it again, Ms. Cerise."

Cerise's eyes widened in shock, "Sister? Eurus is your sister?"

Sherlock's eyes then nearly bulged out of their sockets, "You know my sister?"

"Y-Yes. I know her from almost five years ago." Cerise shook her head, "That's not important, yet. What's important is this: you'll have twenty-four hours to figure out my identity and story up until this point in time. Use only my name as your hint. Seeing as you're in the middle of a party, and I'm sorry for interrupting it, text me when you're done and I'll start the countdown."

Taking out a small notebook, Cerise wrote down her number, tore out the page, and handed it to Sherlock, "Here's my number. Text me when you're ready to begin. Good luck."

As she exited the sitting room and descended the stairs, Cerise heard her phone start to ring. Pulling out of a small compartment in her purse, she answered it just as she left the flat, the door shutting behind her. John groaned in annoyance.

"For once, can we not have a celebration ruined by a case?" he begged.

"Rosie's birthday isn't ruined, John," Sherlock reassured, "We have the rest of the afternoon to finish this up. Whenever we text Ms. Cerise is when the game starts. But, we'll need to go ahead and figure out how we're going to tackle this so we can just jump into it once we receive the text."

"Good idea, but how are we going to figure out someone's life story in a day, Sherlock? Don't get me wrong, you've solved cases in six hours, but someone's entire life? I don't know how we're going to do that?"

Silence permeated for a few seconds before Molly spoke up, "I can ask a few of my old uni friends if they know something. They work at hospitals and clinics around London, so one of them might have some information on her."

Understanding where Molly was going, Lestrade added, "I'll look into archives at Scotland Yard. Perhaps a family member got arrested sometime in the past."

"Then I'll look into military records," John said, "She might have a current or past family member that was in the military."

"Excellent!" Sherlock exclaimed, "Now, you're talking! Now, Mrs. Hudson…"

"I know," Mrs. Hudson cut off, "I'll make the tea and biscuits."

"No, actually. I need you to call Mycroft and see if he can look up Cerise Alexandra in any government records. Hopefully, he's not too busy with whatever he's doing. I'm going to go straight to the source."

"You mean Eurus?" John questioned.

"Of course I mean Eurus. Cerise obviously knows her personally, so it would be helpful to see how much Eurus knows."

"Got it. I say we have a game plan."

"Very much so, John. Once we get that text, the game will, once again, be…"

"On!" Rosie exclaimed, shocking everyone. Sherlock smirked and passed a glance at John.

"Rosie is, without a doubt, your daughter, John."

John's mouth was still agape and all he could mutter was, "Yeah."


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Been a while since I updated this story. Still amazed that people are following it and I am really thankful for that. Also, thanks to mizjoely, whose Tumblr helped me figure out season 4's timeline, thanks to another Tumblr user. So, I will make the appropriate edits to fit this story, which will now take place in 2017, rather than 2016 (I'm sure everyone wants to forget that year. Too many deaths) and have Sherlock and Molly nearing a year-long relationship rather than five months. It'll be worth it in the end. Thank you all for the follows and reviews. Until the next update. Ciao!**

* * *

Mycroft sat comfortably in his private cinema, enjoying a viewing of _Sunset Boulevard_ on his screen, a glass of whisky in his hand. The day had gone a bit better than expected and now, this evening, will be even better. Nothing makes a tiring day go away like a warm soak and a classic piece of cinema. That was always refreshing.

The chirp of his phone alerted him to an incoming text, annoying him greatly. Picking up his phone, he read the text, the sender shocking him immensely, " _Mind me coming over for a drink? IA_ "

Hitting the dial button, Mycroft brought the phone up to his ear, waiting for the other line to pick up. Upon hearing the other voice, he knew he had their attention.

" _Mr. Holmes, what a pleasure_ ," Irene said from the other line, " _I take it you got my text_?"

"Why are you texting me, Ms. Adler?" Mycroft demanded, "I know that you've been in the United States for the past five years, no thanks to Sherlock. Why come back now?"

" _I'm trying to get some information, Mr. Holmes. For a friend, of course_."

"Yes, I know about your little friend. I was alerted to her arrival to London and am waiting for her to make a move."

" _Oh. So you know about Cerise? Well, that makes my job even easier_."

"No, Ms. Adler, it doesn't. I'm not telling you anything you inquire about, as the matter is still pending. Have a good evening and don't call again."

Ending the call, Mycroft sighed and muttered, "Oh, Sherlock, your taste in women is appalling."

As if on cue, Mycroft's phone rang again, this time the caller being Sherlock. Mycroft let out another sigh, "Speak of the devil." He answered the call and said, "This better be important, Sherlock. It's cinema night."

" _I'm aware, Mycroft_ ," Sherlock replied, " _But I wouldn't call unless it was important_."

"What is it?"

" _Tomorrow morning, at the earliest possible time, I need a helicopter to Sherrinford_."

"It's only been two days since your last visit, Sherlock. The schedule for visitations to Eurus clearly states…"

" _Damn the schedule for once, Mycroft! This is important and needed for a case. Please_."

Sighing once again, Mycroft responded, "I'll make the arrangements. Be prepared to leave Baker Street by six-thirty tomorrow morning."

" _Thank you, Mycroft. Good evening_."

Mycroft hung up and leaned his head back, releasing a held breath. This was not how he had pictured his evening going at all.

* * *

Sherlock put down his phone on his nightstand, relieved Mycroft agreed to the request he had. Shrugging off his royal blue dressing gown, he tossed it into his wardrobe and then walked to his bed, sitting on the left side. Molly was on the right side, watching Sherlock with anticipation.

"Well, what did Mycroft say?" she asked, curious.

"I'll be leaving by six-thirty tomorrow morning," Sherlock replied, "Try and get as much information as you can. We're going to have twelve hours or less to solve this case."  
"My guess is eight at the most. We all have a busy day tomorrow."

"Very much so." Settling into bed, Sherlock allowed Molly to rest next to him, his arm under her. He caressed the curve of her shoulder gently, "I have to admit that this case has me worried."

"How come?"

"Eurus' game may not have been Moriarty's last. It may not have been his final round of posthumous revenge. What if Cerise is luring us into a trap?"

"I don't know, but, whatever it is, you'll be there to stop it. You're Sherlock Holmes."

With a smile, Sherlock turned his head towards Molly's and gave her a tender kiss, which she eagerly returned. Molly wrapped her arms around Sherlock's neck while Sherlock's went around Molly's shoulders and back, but soon slipped down to her waist as the passion intensified between them and Sherlock was above her. Gradually, Sherlock's kisses went from Molly's lips, to her jawline, down to her neck and onto her clavicle.

Delicate moans escaped from Molly's mouth as Sherlock moved a little lower to the edge of her tank top, which stopped just above her breasts, his hand moving gingerly at the strap to feel the softness of her skin. His hands then moved down to the hem just above Molly's waistline, immediately catching her attention. Fear and panic began to set in as Sherlock tried to lift her shirt up, Molly grabbing his hands and trying to push them away with an iron grip.

"Stop it, Sherlock," Molly begged, hoping he would sense her worry.

"It's okay, Molly," Sherlock tried to reassure, "I just want to…"

"I said stop it!"

With a hefty shove, Sherlock was away from Molly, the pathologist holding her legs to her chest, as if to protect herself. Confusion was written all over Sherlock's face at Molly's actions.

"What's wrong, Molly?" he inquired, praying he would answer him.

"Look, I just don't want to continue, okay?" Molly answered, her voice now slightly cracking.

"Can you tell me why?" Sherlock scooched closer to Molly, cautious as he did.

"I-I don't want to."

"Why not?" Molly didn't answer, so Sherlock tried a different approach, "Molly, you can tell me anything. I thought we promised no more secrets that night a year and a half ago."

"I know." Molly choked back a sob, "I know, b-but this is s-something I've been k-keeping for a long time. D-Don't make me say it."

Understanding that whatever was upsetting Molly had given her a lot of trauma, Sherlock nodded and pulled Molly to him, letting her sit in his lap and cry onto his chest. He rubbed her back to try and calm her, at it seemed to work a little. A few minutes later, Molly finally pulled away, slightly calmer than before, taking a moment to look Sherlock in the eyes.

"Just tell me when you're ready," Sherlock said, "You waited eight bloody years for me. I think I can wait just as long."

Happy to know he understood, Molly smiled and placed her head back on Sherlock's chest, Sherlock keeping her close. She muttered, "Who are you and what have you done with Sherlock Holmes?"

"Oh, he's here," Sherlock reassured, "He's just not being an ass right now."

"But you will be tomorrow, right?"

"Depends on who you want to target, Molly Hooper."

"Well, one of the new pathologists is an absolute prick…"

* * *

Back in her hotel room, Cerise sat in bed with the TV on some random drama show, her phone next to her ear. She sighed as Irene updated her on her progress and said, "So, let me guess, Mycroft didn't falter?"

" _Of course not_ ," Irene answered, " _Perhaps I can get in contact with Sherlock Holmes to get some information_."

"Give him until the end of the twenty-four hours, Irene. He'll figure it out before then. I have no doubts about that."

" _So, I should just sit here and do nothing_?"

"No. You just do what you used to do before Sherlock Holmes solves part one of the case. Until then, no interactions with him. Understand?"

" _Fine, Cerise. You win. I'll play nice for now. But, I must warn you, once Sherlock Holmes is free, I plan to take him_."

"Irene, he really isn't single anymore. Doctor Watson just posted about it on his blog. Turns out Mr. Holmes is in a happy and committed relationship. He won't name his girlfriend, but did emphasize that she makes Sherlock happy and to respect their privacy."

Silence was all Cerise heard on Irene's side for a good thirty seconds before Irene spoke again, " _Sherlock Holmes, I can't believe you. Did that night mean anything to you_?!"

"My guess is no, if he has a girlfriend. Perhaps he thought of her while whatever occurred between you two transpired. Not every man is attracted to you, Irene."

" _No matter. I will pay Mr. Holmes a visit tomorrow. When I don't know, but I promise you, it will happen_."

"Very well. It's your eighth funeral."

* * *

 _Eight Hours Remaining_

Sherlock and Molly were getting ready for their respective trips, both equally as nervous as the other. Every so often, they would give each other a reassuring squeeze to ease any tension, but it hardly did anything to ease their minds.

"What are you going to ask Eurus?" Molly questioned, hoping some form of an answer would help.

"I'll ask her to tell me everything she knows on Cerise Alexandra," Sherlock answered, "In exchange, I'll grant her a request of almost anything."

"Oh."

Appearing to sense Molly's apprehension, Sherlock turned to her, "I'm not entirely certain what Eurus will want in return for this, but I'm not ready for you to meet her. She's still got a long road ahead of her and I want her to be in the best possible condition when she meets you. Eurus has already interrogated me about us, so she obviously has some form of an interest."

"Sherlock, I was the one person who got you to say "I love you" to another person. Eurus probably wants to know how I did it."

"Maybe. You are a mystery to be still, Molly. One moment you're your usual happy self, the next you're slapping me thrice for doing drugs for a case. Granted, I deserved it both times."

"That you did. I'll be honest, it was very relieving slapping you in an ambulance."

"I'm sure." Shrugging on his Belstaff, Sherlock gave Molly a peck on her cheek, "Text you when I get back."

"Okay. I love you."

"I love you. See you when I get back."

* * *

Mycroft heard knocking at his door as he was putting on his suit, sighing as he knew Sherlock was early. Fifteen minutes early, to be exact. He decided against keeping Sherlock in the cold air and walked to the door, opening it to let his brother in.

"Thanks for that," Sherlock said, "When do we leave?"

"Not for another fifteen minutes, Sherlock," Mycroft answered, "And you should learn to control your women."

"Women? I'm with Molly, Mycroft. There's no other woman, only her."

"Irene Adler texted me yesterday. She knows about Eurus somehow." Mycroft turned to Sherlock, putting his suit jacket on and grabbing his umbrella, "Be careful, Sherlock. I worry that Ms. Adler might try and destroy whatever happiness you have."

Sherlock had been stunned into silence, mostly due to fear. Irene Adler? Back in London? And she wanted Eurus? Whatever the reason, it couldn't be good. Shaking the thought out of his head, another came in its place, "Mycroft, what if Cerise Alexandra told the Woman about Eurus? How else could she have learned about it?"

Mycroft's eyes shot up in surprise, "So, she's gone to you, has she? Well, that's no surprise, considering who she is."

"That's what I'm going to ask Eurus about." Sherlock and Mycroft exited the house and got into one of Mycroft's cars, the vehicle taking off moments later, "How did you know about her?"

"I was alerted to her arrival in London on the fifth. Forgive me for not being at your birthday get-together. Lady Smallwood and I were keeping tabs on the girl."

"Ah." Sherlock nodded, "You know, Mycroft, Lady Smallwood seems to have an interest in you."

Turning to face his brother, Mycroft responded, "Sherlock, she and I are colleagues who work together."

"I said the same thing about Molly for eight long years. Having her in my life, well, it's a blessing. Every day, I look forward to seeing her." A small laugh came from Sherlock's throat, "She completes me. I'd go so far as to say I want to marry her one day."

Eyebrows once again up in shock, Mycroft replied, "Are you sure that's wise, Sherlock? You're not exactly marriage material."

"So what? I'm willing to try, Mycroft. Do you know why? Because I love Molly that much. I am willing to give up being a bachelor for the sake of the one who matters the most!" Sherlock took a deep breath then continued, "Are you willing to do that for the love of your life, should you ever get one?"

Mycroft sighed, "Sherlock, you and I are different in many ways. Love is one of those things where we will disagree. You have a heart the size of Sherrinford while mine is the size of a biscuit at most."

"That's not true."

"Oh, it is. I'm well aware that Lady Smallwood is interested in me. But ordinary people don't interest me, Sherlock. They're too boring."

"Lady Smallwood is anything but boring. She could very well be your intellectual equal."

"Sherlock…"

"No, let me finish. If there's one thing I've learned from my relationship with Molly, it's that women want to be treated as if they're men. Treat them with respect. Ninety-nine percent of the time, they are the ones in the right and we're in the wrong. You obviously have experience with that."

"I've long since made it up to Lady Smallwood for Norbury. She does, however, still insist that we have a drink sometime."

"Then take that chance! John told me once the Culverton Smith case was over that opportunities will pass you by before you know it. Why do you think I finally got off my ass and asked Molly if we could start dating? Because he's right! John and Molly are always right! I do not regret starting a relationship with Molly. Not for a single damn minute! I may not be the man she deserves, but she wouldn't have me any other way. Think about that."

Sherlock sat back in his seat, effectively ending the conversation. Mycroft had been silenced by his brother's declarations, startled that Sherlock had changed so much since Sherrinford. Perhaps his little brother had become the man he was supposed to be, but he could never really be sure. Leaning back in his own seat, Mycroft let the rest of the trip to the helicopter be in total silence.


End file.
